


The Art War

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Artist!Cassian, Artist!Nesta, F/M, Graffiti, Modern AU, Rivals, acomaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Nesta Archeron is a legendary graffiti artist in Velaris. She's made a name for herself. She's the talk of the town.Until someone else moves in on her territory.





	The Art War

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this... Tell me if I should!

Around Velaris, I was somewhat of a legend. Everyone knew my artistic style, and anyone that had visited the city at least once had stopped to admire my murals scattered throughout the streets. They offered glimpses of the night sky; maps of constellations and galaxies alike.

I’d been planning my latest piece for weeks. I had scouted a spot to paint it for twice as long, and had finally settled on the underside of the railroad bridge at the east end of the city. It wasn’t ridiculously busy there, so I wouldn’t have to worry much about getting caught as long as I was careful. But there was also enough foot traffic during the day to ensure that my work wouldn’t go unnoticed.

I packed up my spray cans and rolled my drawn-up plans, stuffing them carefully in a canvas bag. I set out from my apartment, trekking through the shadier parts of the city to get to my destination. I passed a few of my old projects along the way, most of which had been at least partially covered by the same artist.

I paused outside an abandoned 7-11, creeping around the back to check on the status of the mural I’d spent four nights working on earlier this year. It had been untouched since I’d painted it, almost as an unspoken rule between us underground street artists.

“No way.” I stopped in my tracks, gawking at the new art that now covered the brick wall.

Oversize sparrows flew between buildings in a silhouetted skyline, chasing each other in an infinite circle. It was a nice piece, I had to admit. But there, in the bottom left corner, in sparkly gold lettering, was a name I had come to loathe.

“The Dreamer strikes again.”

Whoever this “Dreamer” was, they certainly spared no expense. Each and every work was as elaborate as possible, and always centered around social injustice. And they were beginning to seriously piss me off. They’d re-tagged six of my projects in the last two weeks alone, and had quickly become the talk of the town.

“What’s a guy gotta do to keep a piece uncovered around here?” I stalked off, intent on making my nect painting my absolute best.

My hopes were soon dashed, however, when I made it to the railyard.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” My perfect spot, the one that I had monitored for weeks, had been snatched from under my nose, and by none other than my self-proclaimed rival.

The sour-sweet scent of paint still hung in the air, and I knew I had missed them by an hour at most. The paint was still tacky to the touch, and I ground my teeth to keep from exploding.

“You know what?” I slung my bag to the ground, taking a deep breath. “I don’t even care. This is  _my_ wall.”

Arranging my tools and spray cans in front of me, I unrolled my plans and got to work.

*************

When I painted, I developed a sort of tunnel vision, focusing completely on the task at hand. That hyper-focus wasn’t exactly a good thing when I had to be aware of my surroundings, so I usually brought Rhysand or Azriel along to watch my back.

But today, I was alone. I had one earbud in, blasting whatever heavy metal Azriel had loaded onto my phone earlier that day. I moved my arms in long, sweeping strokes and shorter, detailed bursts to create the right shadows and layers.

This was my release; a can of spray paint in my hands, just me and my brick canvas. I didn’t have to worry about anything other than not getting caught. For an hour or two, I could forget about school and work and money, along with whatever else stressed me out.

A train screeched along the tracks above me, and I stood back to survey my progress thus far. The backdrop of the piece was a galaxy design, hues of metallic pink and varying shades of blue dotted with white pin-dot stars. It looked like something straight of an astronomy textbook, and I would know. Most of my pieces were space themed; I’d been enchanted by the night sky since I was a young boy.

It took me only a few minutes longer to finish. I painted three simple mountain peaks in the center of the galaxy’s spiral, with one prominent star above each. It was another one of my signatures; they were meant to represent the bond between myself and my two brothers.

Satisfied, I hastily shoved my supplies in the bag and tossed it aside for retrieval later. Most idiots got caught because they left their empty cans behind, and the police were able to find them through the fingerprints. I was smart enough to take them with me and dispose of them elsewhere.

Groaning at my stiff muscles as I stood, I took a few steps back to admire my craftsmanship. I’d almost completely covered The Dreamer’s work, and some petty part of me was glad for it. Maybe this would teach them that they didn’t hold a monopoly over the street art scene. The work itself was certainly better than anything I’d ever done before, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket to document it.

“Are you the one that did this?”

I whirled at the sound of the silken voice, immediately ready to run. If anyone connected the dots between my presence here and the bag of empty cans… I could be in some deep shit.

My suspicions weren’t eased as the person stepped out from the shadows. A woman, probably about my age, wearing plain, perfectly crisp jeans and a red fitted tee. Nothing out of the ordinary about her, besides her unimaginable beauty and strikingly cold blue eyes as she stared me down.

“Hello, I’m talking to you.” She waved her hand in my face and I blinked. “Did you do this or not?” She gestured to the freshly spray-painted graffiti behind me. I crossed my arms over my chest, still unsure of the woman.

“Depends. Are you a cop?”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ cop to you?” Her brow rose as she mimicked my stance. I decided right then that I liked this mystery woman. She had guts, I’d give her that. Few people were brave enough to be so crass towards a 6-foot-tall hulking wall of muscle such as myself.

I shrugged. “Anyone can be a cop nowadays.” Her lovely blue eyes nearly rolled out of her skull and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” She paused, looking over her shoulder at me. The way she conducted herself was loose and natural, not at all like the stiff and formal way a trained undercover agent would act. Something about her intrigued me, and I decided to take my chances and indulge her.

I straightened and met her steely gaze. “Yeah, that’s my art.”

She nodded appreciatively. “Pretty impressive attention to detail there. Colors blended with an expert hand, and a bold, daring palate choice.” I smirked triumphantly, pleased by the compliment.

“I’d admire you, if it wasn’t my tag that you’d painted over.” She shouldered around me, crouching down in front of the wall to see the only edge I hadn’t covered.

My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. No way in hell was this tiny chick  _The_ Dreamer! She didn’t look like she’d ever put so much as a single toe out of line, let alone participate in creating illegal graffiti.

“Are you trying to tell me that-“

“Yes,” she said, a sly grin splitting her face and causing a tantalizing dimple to appear on her left cheek. She spread her hands wide, “I’m the legendary Dreamer.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right.” I still didn’t believe her; it was too comical to be true. “Okay sweetheart, whatever you say.” I tried to keep an amused smirk off my face as she balled her hands into fists at her sides.

“Would anyone but The Dreamer know that I tagged over your precious mural at that 7-11?” My face fell as she continued to tick off others on her fingers. “And the one up on 6th street, and over on Baymont-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright I get it!” I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay, so you’re The Dreamer.” I crossed my arms over my chest, taking a moment to  _really_ look at her. There were no outward signs of her artistry, nothing that plainly indicated her as one, unlike the paint that dotted my own arms. But there- a speck of yellow on the heel of her gray shoe.

“So why’d you paint over my work? Just hate me that much or what?”

“Oh, this?” I turned to look over my mural once more. Damn, I was proud of how this one turned out. The blues faded into one another perfectly, the yellowish light of the lamps played up the metallic pinks and silvers nicely-

“Are you done drooling yet? Cause I’d like some answers, if that doesn’t interrupt your staring.” I faced her again, more reluctantly this time.

“Yeah, I painted over yours as payback.” I snatched my bag up from the bushes and slung it over my shoulder. “I was sick and tired of you hogging the spotlight. Plus, I’ve had my eye on this spot for months. So it was only fair, really.”

She cut me a glare so icy it sent a shiver down my spine. “Whatever,  _Galaxy Boy.”_ I nodded appreciatively at the name as I began to back away. It was never a good idea to stick around long after you finished what you came to do, lest someone get suspicious.

“Wow, very creative. Y’know, I might have to steal that and use it as my tagname; it’s that good.”

“Oh, buzz off.” Her voice rose to be heard over another train as it rumbled past on the tracks above. “I’ll get you back for this, you know!”

“Looking forward to it.” I gave her a mock salute before taking off around the corner, back bouncing against my back as I ran.

I smirked as I tore through the shadows. Looked like I’d have to stay one step ahead of The Dreamer from now on.

Challenge accepted.


End file.
